You’re still too young to understand the news, and for that a part of me is grateful. After all, there’s seldom anything on there that I even want to see. It’s all bad news, followed by more bad news, and for now I want to shelter you from all the calamity. School shootings, political unrest, racism and violence. You’re so innocently unaware of it all, and for now you’re not negatively affected by all the anger, injustice, and evil. I wish I could keep you from it forever. Just keep you my sweet, loving girl. But I can’t.

One day you’ll see, and one day you’ll know. I watch you become more aware of the world around you every day, and you’re asking questions, and more importantly contemplating my answers. You’re beginning to form your own opinions, and that’s a good thing, but you still face harsh realities ahead. While a part of me may want to keep you sheltered and protected forever, I know that’s not the way. You need to be a part of this world at large, but you don’t need to let it steal your shine. That’s the challenge.

My advice to you as you begin to notice more the trouble of this world is to abide in hope. To abide is defined as “to continue without fading,” and that’s going to be very important as you go. The fact is that there are cruel people in this world who harm others without thought. Sometimes you will see so much hate, so many heinous acts that make you break into tired tears, and you’ll wonder where all the kindness went.

I can still remember when I served Active Duty and our world was attacked by terror on 9/11. As I watched helpless people jump from a burning building to their death it was as if hope plummeted with them. My heart hurt at the evil that rose against humanity, but then the true grit of humanity rose back in resistance. Despite the atrocious events, hope prevailed. Mankind remained in hope. They abided in hope. It threatened to fade, but in the end it did not. That is what you must always do. Never let the evil of this world win and steal your hope. In this world you will have trouble, but our hope is in something greater than this world. Keep that in mind always.

Here’s the part that kinda worries your Momma, though. You are so sweet, and so kind. Never let that be taken from you! We currently live in a world that feeds on sarcasm and breathes on cynicism. Harsh words are thoughtlessly hurled, opinions are strong, and concessions are few. Sympathy is dulled and charity for the sake of doing it without recognition is rare. You definitely will experience unfair treatment, judgement, and snide comments concerning your life choices. Let them roll off your back, for sure, but don’t let them make you unfeeling. It’s a tough balance to remain sensitive in a “mean” world, yet not let callousness or cruelty change you. They say “if you can’t beat them, join them,” but my advice is to always stay true to you. Don’t allow a hard world to harden you. It’s okay to be “weak” if that means loving your fellow man. A lot of the time when you are weak by the worldly standard, you are truly strong. I think you know what I’m talking about.

But here’s the most important part, kiddo. You are the future. Some folks say “this world has gone to hell in a hand basket,” but you know I never give up hope. I don’t want you to either. Be a world-changer. In a harsh world where confused, hurting people pull out a gun in school, yeah, you need to be on guard, but never do you need to become unloving. When you do that then it really will be the end.

I need you to be the light. I need you to help the hurting. Be the one who reaches out to the quiet, rejected people. Be the one who does no harm, doesn’t judge, and gives a smile always. Watch for those hurting, those who have fallen, and reach out a helping hand. I’m not saying this will be easy, or that it will even be accepted always, but I want you to never stop trying to be a light in this darkened world. Your highest calling in life is to serve others, love others, and perhaps even change this troubled world one life at a time.

You’ve got your work cut out for you, and honestly, I’m glad that right now all you can see is the kindness and love our home offers you. I wish every child had that. Perhaps then we wouldn’t be in the boat we are. For now you’re just learning to love, but my hope is that it will be so ingrained that you’ll have no choice but for you to overflow it into others as you step out further into this troubled world on your own one day.

Let’s just be honest. Women are amazing! We’re pros of problem solving, masters of multitasking, and heroes of all the hats. Women can work out of the home while simultaneously holding down the home front. We cook nutritious meals, run a taxi service for our children, craft like crazy, make our spouses feel special, teach life lessons on the daily, and look amazing doing it. Well, mostly anyway. We strive to do all the things, all the time, and very well. In years past I have applauded myself on my ability to multitask. Homeschooling, homemaking, mothering, working businesses inside the home and out. I was proud of myself and all I could accomplish, but I was also tired. I was frustrated, flustered, and many days ended with me in regret for how I had handled the challenges of the day. I mean, I was getting all the things done, but was that necessarily a good thing?

I can’t tell you how many times I would lose my temper with my young children, raise my voice, maybe throw my own temper tantrum (just being honest), and then feel like total crap afterwards.

“Why, God?!” I would pray. “Why can’t I keep it together?!”

Years went by. Years, y’all. Years where I prayed to not be short-tempered or frustrated. I would make the conscious decision to take my daughters places, to get them involved in activities, but then I’d be in a bad mood getting us out the door. I was typically fine once we got there, but as the relief washed over me while I watched my children I wondered why I couldn’t feel that contentment all the time.

Some mornings I would wake up feeling anxious or depressed. All the planning made no difference in the difficulty. And I got to where I desperately craved the days where we had absolutely nothing planned. They were a much needed respite that went by too fast. I kept hearing that childhood went by far too quickly, and I also knew this to be true. But let’s be straightforward here. Many days I wanted to put on fast-forward to get them over with so I could finally relax. Does that sound awful?

At some point I came to a place where I realized I wasn’t enjoying my motherhood as much as I should. Why did it have to be so hard, so exasperating? Was that just par for the course? Or was it perhaps partially my doing? I had always taken pride in being busy. I think that’s a woman thing. I equated being busy with being productive, and it’s like the more things I could accomplish the more accomplished I was as a mother. But if I was angry and frustrated internally most of the time then what was the point? It was a motive check.

I had always thought that more was better. The more I provided for my kids the better. More toys, more clothes, more opportunities. More activities, more social gatherings, more going places. We may have been going, but I was drowning. I realized one day I felt like I had been treading water for a solid two years, and I also understood that I couldn’t keep it up. I was barely surviving, and my kids weren’t any better for it. There were the things that I thought mattered. And then there were the things that really did. My kids didn’t need more of the things. They needed more of me. They needed a happy mom, both parents working less, and healthy, calm relationships with us. What good was busy if it really didn’t amount to anything of eternal value?

I realized I had to let go of a lot of things. I had to let go of stuff, drop the extra activities I thought made me a better, cooler mom, and understand I wasn’t really on anyone’s timeline but my own. A lot of the chaos and stress in our lives we create, and the real question is why. Why do we create busy lives and equate that with happy, productive, successful lives? And whose standard is it anyway?

Mentally and emotionally, I was slowly killing myself. I loved my children, and I loved doing things for them, but what they really needed was a mom who wasn’t stressed out most of the time. They needed the relaxed, fun-loving mom I knew I could be. I was just distracted from being her by all the tiny, unimportant things that wrongly filled our house, schedule, and priority list.

Each day I’m learning to let go of preconceived notions of how a social media society or misaligned world says I should parent. I’m laying down unrealistic expectations for myself that my children don’t even consider important. No one knows what you can let go of, but you, but I’m discovering it’s always more than we think. To stop, take inventory of what matters, and drop the rest, that’s freedom. I’m learning to smile more, hurry less, and laugh a lot. I’m remembering to not sweat the small stuff, but instead enjoy the small things in life. I’m focusing on family, love, and wherever that takes us.

I guess we were quite a sight, huh? A wide-eyed seven year old talking at top volume, a giggly five year old in her shadow, a tiny toddler running ahead with excited screams, and then me bringing up the rear. I get it; I do. I probably even knew what you were gonna say before you did. After all, I’ve heard it hundreds of times before, and I smiled when you looked upon us and uttered, “Three? Bless your heart!”

Indeed.

A couple of years ago I might not have smiled back so sincerely. See, back then I even kinda took a remark like yours offensively. I’d think, I’ve got this, mister!! You don’t have to worry about me!!

I mean, I had made the decision to have each one of my children, and knowing full well the huge responsibility of parenthood, I found it unnecessary for me to be the object of other’s pity. Yeah, I was busy, even overwhelmed, but I took a “bless your heart” with about as much pleasure as I took a “you do know what causes that, right” when I was pregnant again. Seething rage. I knew what I was getting into, doggone it, and I didn’t need any well-meaning stranger or acquaintance feeling sorry for something I wholeheartedly enjoyed.

So how did I genuinely smile at your remark? Well, I reckon like anything, time changes a person. After spending a couple of years as a mom of three girls, close in age, and after watching their particular and challenging personalities emerge I had discovered a lot about myself. The most humbling, I suppose, was learning that I had no idea what I was doing much of the time. So even though I had prayerfully planned each pregnancy with my spouse, in the end I still didn’t know what to expect. I had no idea how hard it would really be! I had no clue how one sister could be so different from the other, or how instead of getting easier, it got harder.

To tell you the truth, most days I’m a mess! Yes, it’s wonderful. I love it, and I wouldn’t change a thing, or trade my life with anyone else’s for even a moment. But dang, it’s challenging. I’m on this learning curve, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get things totally figured out. So if you want to bless my heart, by golly, I’ll take it. I need all the blessings I can get.

Today’s society is all about strong women who don’t need anything from anyone. I am woman, hear me roar, and whatnot. But I’ll be honest; I’m not too proud to admit it. This mom thing is hard. I could definitely use your prayers, kind thoughts, blessings, and smiles. Heck, I’ll take a gallon of chocolate chip ice cream if you’re offering that.

So I guess what I want to say is this. Thank you. Thank you for taking the time to see the chaotic, but beautiful journey I’m on. Thank you for noticing my sacrifice, but also my gift. Thank you for understanding that mommas are amazing, but that we also need all the bless your hearts we can get. A mother’s heart is huge and her role enormous. So any favor you want to dole out my way is mightily appreciated.

Being a mom is the hardest thing I’ve ever loved, the most challenging endeavor I’ve ever enjoyed, despite the frustrations. Mothers should be proud of how skilled they are in the task God has given them, but never so smug that we can’t take praise. After all, “bless your heart” is just another way of saying, “wow, you’re doing great with that!”

I walked into the fellowship hall with my children and several bags in tow. As my girls scattered in excitement to play I set my sacks down. The one that held food was a plastic bag from a gas station, and I cringed as I looked across the snack table provided. Everywhere were cute Christmas dishes, crockpots, and across the room several moms iced homemade cupcakes. I had two bags of Chester Cheetos Cheese Puffs, cause who doesn’t like those, right?!

I should have at least brought a decorative bowl to put them in, I thought.

But I hadn’t. Because I barely made it on time. And I only remembered I was even lacking in the required snack to share at around nine o’clock last night. So my gas station grab bag was as good as it was gonna get. I had considered a quick trip to the Kroger for something more special, but there really wasn’t such a thing as quick with three little kids and car seats. So…

I already had felt bad about my frazzled mood when rushing the children out the door. I had awoken long before them to set out clothes and a bag of wrapped gifts to exchange, but still we were racing towards the end. That was just our jam, baby.

Yet when I first looked at those sweet ladies with cupcakes, the homemade hor d’oeuvres, and all the cute kiddos in ruffle pants (which I admittedly adored) I felt like I was lacking in the mommy department. I felt subpar and had even spoken as much to my husband via text before arriving.

“Do you think I’m a subpar mom because I get so frazzled at things like this? Others don’t seem to.”

I’m not sure what it is about women that feel we must be doing something, but also doing it well. It’s like our anxiety rises when we’re not rushing about, and we begin to wonder what we’re missing or forgetting. We feel our worth is based a lot on our performance, and thanks to the world around us we have a preconceived notion of what that’s supposed to look like.

Whether we want to admit it or not we’re blinded by the sparkle. We see the glitzy world social media displays, we thumb through magazines or Pinterest with a yardstick ego, and we watch Mrs. Jones even if we think we don’t. In a world that says, “look at me,” and one that captures in fully-filtered glory the highlight reel of the everyday mundane we begin to see the world through rose colored glasses. Or sometimes green ones (in the case of unintentional envy). Even ordinary circumstances like this morning are viewed through a tainted expectation and standard we hold ourselves to, and despite our understanding that we all hold certain talents and gifts, it doesn’t matter.

So what happens in today’s warped world-view is everyone puts their best foot forward always, and we begin to strive for a phantom perfection that cannot be found. Mothers grade themselves more sternly than my chemistry professor in college marked through our lab books, and they are left feeling like they didn’t make the grade. Women hold themselves to unrealistic beauty standards, and young couples enter matrimony thinking they’ve found the perfect mate. When they realize their partner isn’t they assume divorce is the answer because surely that shining knight is out there somewhere. Kids get dressed like supermodels since that’s the standard norm nowadays, and we laugh at pictures of our own selves as children.

“What were my parents thinking?” We ask.

Hmmm. What were they thinking indeed?

Perhaps they weren’t as entranced by the social standards we currently strive to maintain. Maybe mom wasn’t worried about being perfect, but rather enjoying the ride.

When I had texted my husband in a regrettable, embarrassing moment of self-loathing he had responded so lovingly. He could have rolled his eyes and ignored me. He should have! After all, I knew the truth. I knew that perfection wasn’t some worldly standard I needed to obtain to keep up with those around me, or my own head. Perfection was a state I already existed in when I rested in God’s grace, the fact that He lived in me, and by allowing Him to lead my life. Perfection was obtained through Him. I knew this, yet my husband still responded.

You just don’t see it. You are a wonderful mom because those kind of things don’t matter anyways. What makes you a good mom and wife is that you LOVE your kids and husband. I know God is first in your life and so you know what love really is. We think you are wonderful 😘

When I battled my moment of self doubt this morning it wasn’t due to anyone else. No one did anything that made me feel that way! I just did. Until I snapped out of it, that is. There were always situations and circumstances that could make me feel like I was lacking, but that wasn’t from the Lord. I have realized that Perfection is a battle we face in today’s world. It’s the lie the devil feeds us to make us think we’re not good enough, to sabotage our relationships, to shift our focus from what’s truly important, and to separate us from God’s perfect grace that wants to work in our lives.

What’s the price of perfection? It’s the cost that takes our eyes off Jesus, and it places them on ourselves, our works. The world says if you work hard enough, practice enough, pray enough, do enough, that you will obtain the perfect life. But the Lord says, “I have already given it to you, my child.”

John 10:10

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.

The other night when my husband came home I couldn’t help but share an observation.

“We’re on a record around here. I haven’t flipped out in weeks!” I explained excitedly.

He laughed, and I did too. I mean, I totally get that a few weeks of cool momma doesn’t mean I have it all figured out, but y’all, that’s a big deal for me. I don’t know what happened between kid number two and three, but somewhere after my last baby’s arrival I felt like I lost my patience with the discarded placenta. I felt like much of the past two years have entailed me fighting like mad to keep my head above water, and as I struggled not to drown I also struggled not to lose my temper. I failed much of the time.

For a while I’ve been pleading with the Lord to help me not feel like such a humongous failure at this mom thing, and over the last couple of months I’ve seen a light. It’s probably nowhere near the end of the tunnel, but it’s light. That’s worth celebrating to me. I feel liberated, as if I’ve finally flung free of the “crazy momma” shackles, and while some might suggest I’m just getting the hang of mothering three littles, I think there’s more to it. I’ve made some big changes in my approach to life, and I think that’s making much of the difference.

You guys know I’m always saying that I’m a work in progress, but here’s three things I’ve been doing more of so that I can be a more peaceful mother.

1. Praying. Okay, so I’ve been praying for a while, but I’ve also changed the way I’m approaching my prayer life for motherhood. I began to see that a lot of my praying was actually spiritual warfare. I needed to apply the armor of God, and to pray that I could hear God’s voice about parenting rather than that of the enemy.

Satan would have me feel condemned, like I was the worst mom ever who was ruining my children. Whereas God would convict me on areas where I needed to improve, but remind me of His great grace for the journey of motherhood.

I also began to pray specifically for my children, that the Lord could show me the best way to parent each child, and the best way to lead them to Him. After all, it wasn’t worldly matters that ranked important in child rearing. It wasn’t simply perfect reading skills, hitting that home run, or looking like they just stepped out of a Zulily ad. It was showing them the love of Christ, then showing them how to pass that on. My prayers needed to center on kingdom purposes for my family.

2. Focus on the good stuff!

Philippians 4:8

8 Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

I’ve discovered where your thoughts go your heart follows, and no one sees this better than an overwhelmed momma. How many times had I found myself getting flustered about something and it spiraled out of control? You know the scenario. You pick up some laundry from the floor and you mutter how you’re the only one who knows how to put dirty clothes in the laundry. Then the next thing you know you’re running around cleaning the house and fussing angrily at the mess how selfish everyone is but you! Or am I the only one who gripes at inanimate housework?

For me it became a situation where I fed my own anger, and I multiplied the injustice I felt against myself in such an unrealistic matter that I couldn’t see anything but myself. And while it’s true that kids are selfish, husbands don’t think like wives do, and my responsibilities were often enormous and unequal to that of others, that’s all I saw. I missed all the good stuff most of the time. But when I began to change my mindset I also changed my mood. When I could open my eyes to the gifts of motherhood and being a wife I saw the joy of it all. When I remembered my kids were just kids, my husband was an equal, albeit different kind of contributor, and to focus on what was truly important, I could see more clearly through eyes of gratitude rather than eyes of discontent. I had it made in the shade! Healthy kids, a husband who adored me, and all the necessities of life were at my fingertips. The rest was just window dressing.

3. Don’t overwhelm yourself. Sounds simple enough, right? Haha. Hardly. It’s so easy to put too much on your plate, your children’s plates, and even that of your spouse. It’s easy to get distracted. You begin to think things are important that really are not, and a lot of times it’s because the world today tells you it’s important. The great American Dream tells you that you must have the big house, picket fence, 2.5 children, and the dog too. You have to be the perfect mom at home, but still career-minded. Women don’t want to just be equal to men, but better than men. We want to wear all the hats, do all the things, and look the part. We want to joke that we’re a hot mess, but never show that we are. We want to have our three year old reading, our house pristine, and our lawn fully manicured. We want our ten year old’s Birthday the perfect theme, the new boots that Michelle just bought, and to say yes to that volunteer position at our son’s school that we absolutely cannot fit realistically into our schedule. We want nutritionally balanced lunches packed in monogrammed sacks, first place in the reading fair, and a profile picture on Facebook that doesn’t tell the truth of how utterly exhausted we feel.

We want to have our cake and eat it too. Plus it’s gotta be a two tier cake by the lady that everyone else is using. We want our kids involved in everything because someone somewhere said it’s good for their social skills and life skills, or something like that. We want the vacations we can’t afford, the house with too much square footage to clean, and the gas guzzling SUV! We want the perfect marriage, but can’t find the time to feed into it. We want the loving children, but don’t have enough daylight to cherish their little lives while they’re still young. We’re running on empty, not realizing we sabotage ourselves nine times out of ten. We put too much on our agendas. Why?

Good question.

I think it’s one we have to revisit frequently. Just like you need to clean out the fridge, your closet, and the kid’s toy box, you also need to prioritize and downsize life. Too many irons in the fire and you definitely get burned. It’s hard to say no, but eventually you gotta. For your sanity. For your family. For your peace.

None of this is to point fingers, and if by chance I am pointing at anyone, it’s only myself. For me, the plates I was spinning were too many, and the hats I wore were beginning to fall off. Some people may thrive under pressure, and they may fly higher the harder they push themselves. But some of us fall flat, or at the very least are unhappy. I had to remember that God wanted me to enjoy motherhood, not be stressed every day. Some stress you can’t avoid, but a lot of it you can. Just my opinion. So why not live a little lighter, smile a little bigger, and walk in peace more often?

The Lord has been leading me lately to let go. It started with letting go of things around the house I didn’t need, such as that dollar store trinket I had packed up and carried all around the country for over twenty years. But then it bled into the ways I chose to spend my time. Before I knew it I was letting go of thought patterns and habits I had been trying to throw down for ages, but had thus far been unable to get off my sticky fingers. It all started with a decision to make a change, but it’s started to snowball from there.

I found myself living an overwhelmed life, and I think most women can relate to what I mean by that. It’s as if I woke up to a stopwatch, and as I went about my day it quickly ticked away. I ran in futility on a house of sand, and try as I might to get somewhere, I just always ended up slip-sliding away. I put so many things on my priority list, and I even took pride at how many tasks I could complete in one day. I considered myself highly skilled at multitasking, certainly much better than my spouse, and as such found it highly irritating that he never seemed rushed or perturbed like I tended to be. So when he told me to “calm down” I would just become more ruffled in my feathers wondering why he didn’t get it. I never considered the fact that maybe I was the one not getting it.

Not getting what was important in life.

How much of my time and energy did I spend on things that weren’t really important? Not in the grand scheme, anyway. I got frustrated about the amount of toys I kept having to pickup. Which brought to mind why we had so many toys? It turns out the kids didn’t really care to have that many. They were just as overwhelmed at the mess as me. So together we let most of them go.

A shelf full of things I had no time to dust, and tons of books I would never read again. I let them go. A closet floor full of shoes, drawers full of too many socks, and clothes that never even got worn. I let them go.

Too much debt, too many bills, and far too much consumerism. I’m letting it go!

Too many obligations, activities that were unimportant, and expectations for myself that were unfair. Energies focused on tasks that were sucking the life out of me, and frustrations that none of it seemed to go as perfectly as I planned in my head. I let that go too.

We women place a lot upon ourselves, then we in turn place unrealistic expectations on our children and our spouse. We grow frazzled, angry, fatigued, anxious, and even depressed. We never seem to catch up with the eight ball, we take it out on those we love, and then we beat ourselves up about it. Then because we’re gluttons for punishment, we repeat the whole cycle again the next day. I found it all utterly exhausting, and I began to ask myself how much of what I considered must-do really mattered to God’s kingdom. After all, isn’t that what this life is all about? Living it well until we get to the next life.

It turns out none of my stuff was making a mark on God’s kingdom. My relentless running around wasn’t making a mark for eternal purposes, and my attitude most days wasn’t leaving behind the legacy I imagined. So I had to let it go. I had to let go of everything that didn’t matter in the great, grand God-scheme of thinking.

I let go of material things that were overwhelming me. Doing laundry is a lot easier when you realize kids don’t need an overflowing wardrobe of adorable ruffles, monograms, and lace. They don’t care about that stuff. Why did I?

I let go of the false ideas that I had to do everything perfect, that I had to get everyone everywhere on time, be the best homeschooling mom on the planet whose children were exceptionally educationally-gifted, and spin a billion plates in the process. I had to realize my kids needed to have fun learning, know that I loved them more than the clock, and understand that showing the light of Jesus to a hurting world was top on our to-do list every day.

As always, I’m still a work in progress, but I’m seeing some interesting side effects of letting go. As I’ve let go of worry over the things I cannot control, I can more clearly see God work in my life. I’ve let go of the wheel.

I’ve let go of my stress, which hasn’t been easy, but dang, it feels good. I’ve let go of rigid schedules, and in the process I’ve found it easy to control my anger. I’ve let rage against the mommy-machine go, and that one probably feels the best. I’ve let go of unrealistic expectations, and with each scenario that threatens to overwhelm me I first ask myself, does it really matter? Does it?!

Nine times out of ten, it doesn’t.

I’ve let go of thinking that so much matters more than it does, and instead I’m just enjoying what really does. Gosh, it’s fun! Who said life has to be so miserable? Sure, the Bible says this world will have trouble, but then it also says our Lord has overcome the world. So why do we live in defeat? Why do we struggle for things that He calls finished and fight battles God has already won? Something to think about, right? I’ve decided to just let. It. Go. To let go of everything that distracts me from the joy He’s placed within me, and to hold on tight to the life He has in mind for us all.

We pulled up quickly and efficiently into the darkened parking lot in our cozy and warm minivan. As I put our family vehicle into park I heard a tiny voice emerge from the backseat.

My four year old sputtered, “I don’t like it here.”

I sighed silently to myself, then spoke softly, “it’s ok. This isn’t where we’re going. We’re going over there.”

I pointed across the street to a brightly lit and inviting church. We were attending a much-anticipated social event where the girls would see their friends from the homeschool group we were involved with. At the beginning of this semester my preschooler had cried when left alone in class with new friends, but by the end she had made new pals and truly enjoyed herself. I knew this was something she wanted to do too, but still…

She asked, “Is it on the bottom floor or do we have to ride an elevator?”

“It’s on the top, but just one floor, and we’ll take the stairs,” I answered calmly.

I wasn’t always calm. It was not only challenging to raise an anxious child, but also exasperating. I ranged from wanting to throttle her during her meltdown moments to wanting to cry right along with her for my supposed failures. After all, so many times I had wondered, what did I do that has made her this way?!!

Did I not give her enough attention when the new baby came?

Was I somehow lacking in the love she needed to make her feel secure?

Was it that time I screamed like a maniac at her?

The mommy guilt had been strong over the last couple of years as I watched her quirky, unwarranted fears come out. I couldn’t for the life of me pinpoint why my first child was so social and confident, yet the second that I had raised the same was so not. I tried not to compare, but as she developed her peculiar fears I questioned my parenting over and over. What had I done differently and why was she afraid? No abuse, neglect, or negative treatment by anyone else had occurred.

So why did she ask me if I knew where we were everytine I took a different route to the store?

“Are we lost?”

Why was she afraid of going anywhere that the door could latch shut?

Did that one time she got accidentally locked in the bathroom upstairs really equate to crying in the dressing room at JCPenney’s because she was worried we’d get stuck there?!

“What if we can’t get out?!!”

I wasn’t sure why my child worried, but many times she reminded me of myself. She had a tendency to overreact and definitely was oversensitive in most matters. From an early age I had noticed she cried about something as simple as a shoe not going on right, but she hadn’t really outgrew it like I thought she would. I came to realize she was my special, sensitive, and sometimes anxious child that required a different kind of approach when it came to parenting.

As we walked into the large hall at the church my seven year old ran excitedly ahead to greet her friends. My toddler tugged at my hand eager to taste the display of sweet treats, but I sensed the anxiety immediately. I turned quickly behind me where my middle daughter stood a mere two steps behind me, and immediately I caught the overwhelmed fear on her face. She was only seconds away from crying, and I scooped her up quickly into my one open arm. I carried my crew to an empty corner and started to speak to my frightened four year old.

“Is it the crowd? Are you scared?” I asked.

She nodded confirmation with unspilled tears in her eyes, and I immediately worked to calm her anxious heart.

“You don’t have to be afraid. I’m here. And Jesus is always with you,” I explained. And then we prayed together.

Within minutes she was fine, and that’s always how it was. She ran around excitedly with the other children. She laughed, she sang, she danced. She played and ate cookies. She was fear and anxiety free for the rest of the evening. I watched with pride as she smiled brilliantly, albeit shyly at the festivities. She was my beautiful, brilliant girl. Her heart was bigger than Texas, and she loved people with an enormous, unconditional love. But sometimes she was anxious. It was hard for us both.

Long ago I realized my baby was special, more so than just the typical “my kid is awesome kinda thing.” I think God made her a particular way because He has special plans for her life. Perhaps He made her sensitive so she could better relate to the tender and hurting parts of others. Sometimes I see her thoughtfully watching people and I’m certain this is true. When the idea of this post was floating around in my head I paused mid-thought at the sound of my girl across the house. I could hear the water running in the bathroom, and I could hear her tiny, musical voice carry through the hall. She was talking to one of her toys again, I assumed, seeing she had always been an imaginative, independent player. I walked up to the bathroom and heard her speaking from inside.

I don’t want anything for Christmas, God, but all the people to be happy.

I love you, God, more than money or anything you can buy.

I walked back into the living room without interrupting her little conversation, smiling as I sat down on the couch. I prayed for that child a lot, that is certainly true. Heck, a lot of the time I simply prayed for my own sanity dealing with it all. But mostly I prayed to be just the mother she needed. I figured God gave her specifically to me for a reason, and despite the challenges I certainly didn’t want to mess it up. So I frequently prayed for wisdom that God would show me exactly the best way to parent this special little star. Sometimes she freaked out big over little things, but other times she loved the little things bigger than I had ever seen.

*While I might experience some silent judgement or even unloving advice from some for this post, I wrote it in a sharing mode with the hope that my situation might make someone else with an anxious child feel less alone. I hope that you too can see the special calling the Lord has for your child. May we all raise them to the best of our abilities, and cling to His strength for the rest.

Inevitably it happens. It sneaks up unaware. I find myself in a situation, surrounded by other mothers, and I lament internally, why can’t I be like that?!

I’ll see the crafty mom, the one who does projects with their kids daily. I’ll grimace at the fact that most days it’s all I can do to make it through the fundamentals, and the thought of extra art time is exhausting.

Why can’t I be like that?

I’ll see the mom who’s always on time. I’m not even sure what that means. With each child I’ve added, I’ve lost five minutes of each hour, and fashionably late is my new M.O.

Why can’t I be like that?

I’ll see the cool, collected mom who never yells. I, on the other hand, end at least one day a week in tears and prayers to the Lord to help me be a better, more patient mother.

Why can’t I be like that?

I’ll see the mom who loves all the parties, field trips, and extracurriculars. Meanwhile, I’m dragging a flipping-out four year old by the hand, holding a dangerously curious toddler like a sack of potatoes on my hip, and I’m gritting my teeth and whispering to self, can I leave yet, can I leave yet. I just don’t always enjoy peopling.

Why can’t I be like that?

I have come to understand that I’ve never wanted to do anything more perfectly than I do mothering, but I can never quite obtain that level I desire. Many times I do myself a disservice when I look away from my own calling to that of others. After all, motherhood is a calling. It’s a ministry God places women in, and like most mission fields, He equips His disciplines appropriately. But when I lose sight of the giftings He has placed in me I cannot carry it out as He wills. When I look at someone else’s calling and long for their gifts, I’m negating the power of my own.

Every mother is bestowed special talents for the task of parenthood, and the reason we’re given a variety of special skills is because we’re raising special, unique children with their own future callings. So when God made me He put inside me the exact gifts I would need to raise each of my individual children to be the best kingdom kids they could be. Sometimes you just have to smile when you feel subpar because in reality you are exactly who your children need you to be. God equips His missionaries specifically for the mission field where they find themselves.

I think we all know that no one is perfect, and no one is what they may appear when you look across their back yard. But what we can easily forget is that we’re the perfect mother. We’re the perfect mother for our unique children that God placed in our lives, and we are perfect because of Christ in us, who equips us specifically for the task at hand.

I stood up at my chair in the sanctuary of my small church. My daughters had all scattered to go sit with their friends, and that was fine by me. It was nice to have some time alone to enjoy the presence of the Lord during worship, and other than my spouse beside me, I was alone to focus my morning on seeking His face. I loved Sunday morning worship for this very reason. The words to the Jesus Culture song were projected on the screen, but I knew them by heart, so I closed my eyes enjoying the moment. I sang,

Show me your glory!

And in my head I also prayed. Yes, Lord. Show me your glory.

I want to see your glory like Moses did.

As I stood there praying for God to show me more of His presence my thoughts were interrupted by a small body bumping hastily into mine. As I opened my eyes I simultaneously felt my seven year old wrap her arms around my waist. She hugged me tight and whispered, “I love you, Momma.”

I smiled down at my eldest daughter who had left the company of her comrades to give ole mom an embrace, and at that moment the Lord spoke to me.

Here it is. My glory. Do you see it?

I looked down at the smiling, snaggletoothed grin of my girl, and I saw God’s face. His majesty was evident in her existence, and it was magnified in the face of all of my daughters. He had created man in His image, and with each precious gift of a child I had been given, He had shown me His glory made concrete in their lives. Each day was a gift, every breath, and every blowing breeze. His power rested on the wings of a fragile butterfly, and His beauty was made perfect in the rising of the sun. Each cry of a baby sang the awesomeness of His magnificence, and every laugh of an elderly woman demonstrated His loving hand.

His Glory

I pondered how often I forget that fact? It was easy as a mother to become exasperated with my children, and as a human being it was easy to be frustrated with the world around me. I could flounder and fuss through each over-scheduled day just hoping for the time to seek Jesus; yet there He was. In every crooked smile of a child, and in every brown leaf that fell upon my lawn signifying new beginnings for the coming year. It was certainly in no way necessary for me to wait until Sunday morning, standing in worship, to feel His presence or experience His glory. It was there, all around, if only I could open my eyes and heart to receive it.

It’s amazing to me how quickly God can begin to change a heart, and in that vein I’m reminded of a situation that happened to me about five months ago. In the summer my personal Facebook account was hacked, and by hacked I don’t mean someone took my photo and tried to impersonate me. I mean someone used an old email attached to my Facebook account to take control of it and make it their own. I was briefly able to get in and see where he changed my profile picture, added his friends, and posted on my timeline in another language. Then I got kicked out as he changed the primary email and phone number associated with my account. I reported it, Facebook shut it down immediately, and I never got it or my author page back again.

Y’all, I won’t lie; I was devastated. Ten years I held that personal account, and the author page held followers of my blog from across the globe. I ran a lucrative home-based business from social media and a world-recognized blog, and when I lost it all I was downright depressed. God went along to show me I could make money with my business despite the loss of customers, and He went on to give me another viral blog post within a month’s time. After all, God will work out what He wants worked out despite what the world does. It’s my job to remember that.

But back to priorities. It bothered me that losing my Facebook bothered me. You know what I mean? I didn’t want to admit that I had more invested in social media than I really needed, and from that point forward God began to change my way of thinking. I wondered just how much importance I placed on a platform that couldn’t even see my heart but just a tiny little bit. It began an introspection into why what anyone thought even mattered.

It seems we’ve transformed ourselves into a society that is always ready to pose, always ready to document our lives, and eager to see who all approves. I mean, not a single one of us wants to admit it, but how many of us dress our kids for the day with the idea in mind of taking a photo and posting it to Instagram? In our desire to share the highlight reel of every day we’re creating children who place value on how they look, our own identity on how much attention our efforts are garnering, and a mindset that sees life as a stage. We’re all walking around like we have our own personal paparazzi, and we’re equipping our kiddos to assume the same.

What are our priorities?

When I was a kid I got to be a kid. I got to get dirty in my mismatched, ill-fitting play clothes while my disheveled hair, with nary an enormous, matching bow, half-covered my smiling face. It was a face that smiled because it was having fun, not because my mom was telling me to say cheese. My clothes came from thrift stores, and namebrands were not even a consideration. There wasn’t that much of a concern over what all the other girls were wearing, certainly not like it is today. And I am quite certain my mother didn’t give two toots what the other mothers thought about the way she dressed me.

What are our priorities?

So why do we as mothers today place sooooo much importance on the brand our children are wearing, what’s the latest trend, and if they are measuring up to the other kids in class?

Why are we worried about how many extra-curricular activities they’re involved in, and if we’re hitting the mark with our overloaded volunteer activities as a participating parent? Little Susie has to be in dance, gymnastics, and cheer because little Jan’s mom is handling it all just fine, and doesn’t her hair look fantastic?

What are our priorities?

We’re overly concerned with the opinion of our peers, but most of us are not in high school anymore. I think we’ve forgotten that. We think we need the shiny SUV and the big house. Why? Because that’s what everyone else has. Just look at their photos on Facebook.

Easter Sunday becomes about obligatory photos of perfect, smiling faces in beautiful dresses and shiny suits. And don’t forgot about the baskets. My goodness, the baskets! A plethora of photos of Easter baskets that have exploded out of the basket, across the table, and draped itself over the sofa. Easter has basically become Christmas Morning Part 2. But it’s cool because we go to church for like an hour and remind ourselves about that whole resurrection business. Now on to the egg hunt and ceiling-high, chocolate bunnies!

Listen, I’m not saying I don’t dye eggs and give my daughters candy. I do. And that’s fine and dandy. I love tradition. But I wonder how much merit we misplace on these things? When did birthdays become so big that we stress ourselves for the Pinterest-perfect theme, or break the bank on that very photogenic cake? When did we start thinking we have to buy a billion presents for our kids on Christmas? I love giving my children gifts too, but can’t we all be honest that they don’t even play with half the stuff?

So here we are taking pictures of ourselves for social media packing a shoebox for Operation Christmas Child. We’re so proud of that $1 doll we bought for a needy child overseas! Now hurry up and take off work early so you can go put over $500 of plastic parts in layaway for your own little one. Hey, I’m guilty; I get it.

But what are our priorities?

None of us want to downsize from our two story home to a trailer, after all. What would people think? We’ll keep working hours away from our family to pay that big mortgage, and give our spouse our emotional crumbs at the end of the day. We’ll place value on things like a big screen TV and a vacation that pulls out all the stops. I mean, we need that week at Disney together to make up for the fact that we barely see one another the other 358 days a year.

What are our priorities?

Why are we working all the time to buy all the things, and why do we spend such an elaborate amount of time sharing that with basically strangers? I’ve been asking myself the same kinds of questions. We’re living a life where a slow internet connection ticks us off, but we can ignore the homeless guy on the corner, the abused woman in our ladies’ group, or the hundreds or thousands of hungry kids within our own school district.

Recently when we put our house on the market I began to have a lot of people ask me why. They wanted to know our plans.

“Didn’t you just buy that home a couple of years ago?”

“You have a beautiful home! Why would you want to move?!”

I found myself stammering. I wasn’t sure what to say. How did I say, “we’re selling 90 percent of our possessions and going out on the road to spread the love of Jesus to everyone we meet.” It certainly sounded unconventional to me, and last night I realized I might even be a little worried people would think we were crazy. I asked myself what my priorities were. Were they concerns over what others thought of me? Or were they doing the will of God?

Was it stuff that mattered to me, or time with my family?

Was my priority to fit in with the status quo, American dream? I mean, for some people that’s their medium, that’s where they are called to serve the Lord. But what I’m learning as my husband and I seek the Lord about our priorities is it’s not for us. We are being called to something different, and it feels good!

What are our priorities?

I think whether you live in a mansion or a box it’s a good idea to ask yourself what causes you joy in life. Is it others opinions, or actions that are directed towards gaining their approval? Or is it living for Kingdom purposes? Are we teaching our children what society nowadays totes as important, or are we showing them how loving mankind is what truly matters? Are we living in a worldly mindset, or are we looking at life with an eternal view? This life, the one we stress out so much over, it’s just a flash in the pan! So why are we placing so much value on the things that don’t matter? Much of what we’re counting as important is here today, but gone tomorrow. So my question is, are we investing our time and energies in the things we can take to Heaven with us?

What are our priorities?

It’s a good question. It’s one I’m still asking myself every day. As always, I’m a work in progress with many missteps along the way. So while I’m not in any way saying you have to sell all your possessions, give the money to the poor, and move your entire family to a far corner of the planet to serve God, I am saying that we all can be blinded by the things of this world. They’re bright and shiny, and they’re really good at distracting us and taking our eyes off Jesus. So here’s what I want.

I want to live tomorrow seeing with eyes like the Lord much more than I do today. I want to be so in tune with what God wants for my life that I don’t even feel the need to be bothered by anything that He doesn’t want for me. I want to love like He does, give like He directs me to, and keep my focus on what’s important. And when I say give I’m not just talking about money. We are called to give our hearts and time for His kingdom, and I’m wondering when exactly we forgot this part?

So maybe all this sounds crazy to you, and perhaps you’re even laughing. That’s okay. I’m growing more and more towards a place where the approval of man means less and less. I want the light of God to shine out of my life, to love those around me, and to lead others to His face. The rest of it is just busy work. It’s how we spend time until He calls us home. So I figure if I have the time to spend, I might better spend it well, and when I stand before God on judgement day I hope I’ll see an account of my life that will bring more joy than sadness. It’s good to see that for now I can very well apply editing to images of my day, but I’m wise to realize that one day everything will absolutely be #nofilter.

Meet Brie

Brie is a thirty-something (sliding ever closer to forty-something) wife and mother. When she's not loving on her hubby, bouncing a happy toddler on her hip, chasing her preschooler, or teaching her six year old at the kitchen table, she enjoys cooking, reading, and writing down her thoughts to share with others. But honestly she loves nothing more than watching a great movie, or a hot bath, alone if the children allow. Which never happens.Read More…

Subscribe to Blog via Email

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.